


I Belong Where You Are

by Whreflections



Category: Kane (Band), Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hurt Steve, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:45:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve is hurt in an accident, Chris has to face a glimpse of just what life would be like without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Belong Where You Are

He’d just left the recording studio when his phone rang. He was walking down the hall when he felt it buzz it his pocket, and he yanked it out quick, thinking at first Steve was texting him. He’d talked to him earlier before he left the house, and Steve had told him he was gonna head out to some grocery shopping, get ingredients for a few good meals for when Chris came home in a couple days. The phone kept buzzing as he pulled it out though, and he flipped it open and held it to his ear without ever looking at the screen.   
  
“Yeah, hello?” It was probably Steve anyway. Or Jensen.   
  
“Mr. Kane?”   
  
His eyebrows knit in confusion, his walk slowing a little. Hardly anyone had his personal number, and none of them would need to call him ‘mr’ anything. “That’s me; who is this?”   
  
“This is Dr. Elizabeth Knorr at Cedar-Sinai, we have you as the emergency contact for Steve Carlson?”   
  
Right then, he was pretty sure his heart nearly gave out. He gripped the phone painfully tight, stopping and leaning back against the wall at the sudden rush of dizziness. “He’s my partner; what the hell’s wrong with Steve?” Usually, he wouldn’t have talked to a woman like that, much less a woman doctor that was obviously only trying to help, but his mind couldn’t wrap around that quite yet.   
  
“He was in a very serious car accident this afternoon, and he’s still in critical condition. We’ve done the best we can to try and get him stable, but I suspect he’s going to need another surgery soon if the internal bleeding doesn’t stop. He has multiple lacerations and 2 broken ribs, and though his lungs haven’t been punctured they’re bruised and we’ve had to put him on a ventilator. The greatest concern past the bleeding is the fact that he also suffered a sharp blow to the head, but there isn’t much we know about the severity of that just yet.”   
  
If he could’ve gathered a single fucking thought together, maybe he could’ve said something. He was frozen. The bricks in the wall were digging into his back and he could feel each point, and every place where the edge of his phone dug into his palm as he gripped it a little tighter. This just…this just couldn’t fucking be real.   
  
“I know this has to be a lot to take in…” A lot to take in? He couldn’t take in a damn thing beyond the fact that Steve was…  
  
 _Oh God, Steve…_  
  
“I…I’m in Nashville.” His voice came out rough, and he swallowed hard against the urge to be sick. “I…” He had to think, had to get his brain moving again because this was fucking serious, and Steve was…   
  
He shoved himself off the wall, taking off down the hall purposefully without really paying a damn bit of attention to what he was doing. Airport. He had to get to the airport. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just gotta find a flight, I was comin’ home in two days and-“  
  
“It’s alright, Mr. Kane, I understand. I know this is all a shock and I’m sorry I had to tell you all this over the phone. Is there anyone else I should call in the meantime? Any other family in town that can be here?”   
  
He darted across a crosswalk without even waiting for the light to change, gripping his guitar vise tight and running frogger style between the cars. “I…uh…” Goddammit, he just couldn’t function like this. He was still hearing everything she’d told him playing on a loop in his head, still seeing visions of Steve hunched over the wheel in the cab of the truck, bloody and hurting and… “His momma. They’re ah…they’re living in Pasadena now.” He made over to the rental car and fumbled with the keys, jerking the door open and unlocking it quick to shove his guitar in the back. “There’s some other people, they’re not really family but I’ll call ‘em and they’ll-“  
  
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to let anyone else back to see him right now, just family. But if they’d like to wait in the waiting room until they’re able to-“  
  
“They will.” If he didn’t call Jensen and Jared, they’d probably kill him. The car roared to life and he backed up quick, barely glancing back over his shoulder and praying there wasn’t a car there. “Steve, he’s…” His hand worked around the steering wheel, clenching until his knuckles burned. “How is he? I mean…he’s…he’s hurt but he’s ok, right, he’s gonna be…” Throwin’ around words like ‘critical’, he had no idea what the hell to think, other than that Steve had to be ok. He had to be.   
  
“Mr. Kane-“  
  
“Chris.” The formality was just making him feel sicker, if that was even possible.   
  
“Chris, I’m sorry, but we won’t know until we can stop the bleeding, and even then we won’t be sure until he wakes up.”   
  
Jesus. “He ah…he still hasn’t…not at all?” Oh God. ohgodohgodohgod. The hand he held the phone with shook, and he screeched to a stop just before running a red light.   
  
“I’m afraid not yet. But right now that’s pretty much to be expected. When do you think you can get here?”   
  
He scanned the dashboard clock. It read 5:05. Flight to L.A. was a fucking five hour flight, minimum, and that was if he could get one right away  _and_  it was nonstop. He cursed under his breath and ran a stop sign. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
“Jen?”   
  
“No, man, they’re still not tellin’ us anything. I saw Sandy when she got here and she tried to get us in but they wouldn’t let us. She said she’d come back and let us know real soon.”   
  
Exhausted already, Chris let his head fall back against the wall, his voice monotone. “She’s not answering her phone.”   
  
“She probably just doesn’t have it with her, ok? Chris, you’ve gotta calm down, I know, this is scary as hell but Steve’s gonna be-“  
  
“I am calm.”   
  
“Yeah, and it’s fuckin’ scary!” Chris flinched a little, reached down to rub at a spot of dirt on his jeans.   
  
“Yeah. ‘M sorry.”   
  
He heard Jensen sigh, and sound of an ambulance driving by. He must have been outside the hospital, then. “Look, I’m really sorry, I shouldn’t be yellin’ at you, I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re freaking me out here, Chris. You gotta hold it together, alright? He’s gonna be ok, I promise.”   
  
Unless he already wasn’t ok, and there was nothing Jensen could do about that. And as for holding it together, he’d stopped having any semblance of that about 30 minutes ago. The last nonstop flight to L.A. had left at 4, and he was stuck waiting until 6:32 when he’d get on a six hour flight diverted through Denver. It’d be almost 11 L.A. time by the time he got there, and all that time Steve would be there needing him and here he was sitting on the other side of the country staring at the floor and being utterly useless.   
  
Jensen sighed again, picking up after Chris couldn’t manage to say anything at all. “Listen, I’m gonna go back inside, ok? I’ll you as soon as I know anything.”   
  
“Ok.”   
  
“He’ll be ok, Chris. He’s gonna be ok.”   
  
“Yeah, ok.”   
  
He wasn’t sure if he believed it.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
The same thoughts had plagued him through the entire plane ride. The first and the most popular also probably made the least sense, but it was there all the same.   
  
If something like that happened to someone that close, weren’t you supposed to  _know_? Wasn’t there supposed to be this strange feeling that came over you or some shit like that, something to let you know something terrible was going down and you needed to talk to them, you just didn’t know why. Hell, he’d heard all about things like that before. His own momma’d sworn up and down she knew the minute her Aunt Sally died while she’d been on the way driving to the hospital to see her. She’d been making a left hand turn, and she just knew that that moment was it; it was over.   
  
Granted, Steve wasn’t dead. He wasn’t, he couldn’t be, and he wasn’t dying either, but all the same, shouldn’t he have felt _something_? He’d just been there in the studio working, joking around with Riley and tweeting on and off back and forth with Tim and not having a care in the world. There had to be something wrong with him.   
  
The other thing, the more realistic one was everything that could happen from here. He wasn’t an idiot, and he knew a few ways this could play out. Someone with a head injury not wakin’ up, that was the perfect setup to slip into a coma, the kind of thing that lasted for days or months or years or never ended at all, and every time he got to that point in thinking he had to resist ordering a drink. He sure as hell wasn’t gonna show up at the hospital trashed, even if he felt like it would’ve helped his nerves.   
  
But now he was here and the waiting was over and he was crossing down the last hospital corridor he’d been told to follow, the floor pretty quiet at nearly 1 AM. Last room on the left, and he took a deep breath before he went through the door.   
It didn’t matter, nothing could’ve prepared him. Steve was there in the middle of the bed, lying too perfectly still. Nearly his whole chest was wrapped in white, and Chris could see the spots of blood leaking through in places. There was a bandage around his head, too, and the way his chest rose and fell was too goddamn shallow and unnatural.   
  
He went right to him, bending over the bed and brushing a soft kiss against his lips. “Hey, darlin’. ‘M here.” Nothing, not a flutter of his eyelids, not anything, and even expecting it, it still broke him. He wiped away the tear that fell against Steve’s cheek and he raised up, keeping his palm cupped against Steve’s face. “Got here as fast as I could, I’m sorry, damn flights and...Steve…” His voice wavered and he cleared his throat and gave up on talking, reached down and took the hand not anchored to an IV line and pulled it between his palms, kissing every inch he could. There were cuts there, too, and the smell of antiseptic and alcohol was overwhelming.   
  
It was a moment before he even noticed anything else, but something in his peripheral vision finally tugged at him and he looked over to see an exhausted Sandy Carlson passed out in a hospital recliner in the corner, a little ways from the other side of the bed. He rubbed his thumb against Steve’s wrist, kissed his hand one more time before he put it down and walked over to her, dropping down to crouch by the arm of the chair as he reached out to rub her shoulder.   
  
“Mom.” They’d been together so long, it’d only been natural. She saw him as her baby now too, and she’d told him to stop calling her Sandy. It was fitting, and as long as he didn’t call her momma, his own mother didn’t mind. Her eyes fluttered open, slow at first, blinking quicker when she remembered where she was. Chris squeezed her shoulder, drawing her attention down to him, and she reached out for him immediately, hands cupping his face.   
  
“Oh, Chris, honey, you’re here…” Her thumbs were already wiping across his cheeks and the corners of his eyes, and he looked down, felt another tear slip past that she didn’t catch.   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, just got here. Couldn’t get an earlier flight.” He took a deep breath and ran his own hand over his face before he looked back up at her, questioning. “Has he woken up at all?”   
  
She shook her head, and there were tears in her eyes too. Goddammit.   
  
“The doctor said that’s still not really unexpected at this point, after hitting his head like that…” She bit her lip, looking over at her boy and shaking her head again. “He was on his way back home from the store. He’d just called me not ten minutes before to ask me about a recipe.”   
  
“What happened?” His throat felt tight, nearly closing up around the words, and he stood up and grabbed the other chair, dragging it close enough to the bed that he could take Steve’s hand again.   
  
“They don’t know. He was going through a subdivision, staying off the main roads and it was a hit and run. One of the homeowners saw it happen and ran out there, said it was a white SUV but that could be-“  
  
“That could be anyone, yeah.” He could feel the anger boiling hot under his skin already, and he jerked when she came up behind him and ran her fingers through his hair, bending over to kiss his forehead.   
  
“Don’t do that, Christian.”   
  
He threaded his fingers with Steve’s, squeezing and hoping he’d feel Steve squeeze back. He muttered, his eyes on their hands. “Do what?”   
  
“That look you get when you’re itching for a fight. Beating someone up isn’t going to help Steve right now.”   
  
She knew him too well, and she was probably right. But that didn’t change how he felt. “Doesn’t really matter, does it? Don’t even know who to go after because the goddamn cowards-“  
  
“ _Chris_.”   
  
He ducked his head, a little defeated. She hated that word, and she wasn’t too fond of him fighting either. “Sorry.” Didn’t mean that he’d let it go, because he couldn’t, but he wasn’t going to upset her more if he could help it. He shoved the anger back, pushed up out of his chair and headed for the door. “When’s the doctor coming back?”   
  
“Not long. She’s been by nearly every hour.”   
  
“Alright. I’m gonna go get Jensen and Jared, they deserve a chance to come see him.”   
  
“I went out and talked to them a couple hours ago…they’re in the waiting room just down the hall, to the right.”   
  
On the way he took a detour into an empty stairwell, punched the wall a couple of times and felt a little better when he came away with his hand aching, but she didn’t need to know that.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
“So what you’re saying is, he’s ok if he wakes up. Is that it?”   
  
Dr. Knor, tilted her head, inconclusive. “What I’m saying is we won’t know until he wakes up. For the moment, my immediate concern is that while the internal bleeding seems to have stopped, he’s lost a great deal of blood. He’s going to have to have a transfusion.”   
  
Shit, since when did all of this stuff sound so scary? A blood transfusion was something simple, something that wasn’t a big deal but the way she said it and the fact that it was Steve was enough to have his heart in his throat. He’d always thought he’d be better in an emergency than this, but again, this was Steve…apparently that meant all bets were off.   
  
“Alright, I’ll do it.”   
  
She smiled, kind but a little amused. “What type are you, Chris?”   
  
Jesus. He shook his head, felt like an idiot all over again. “No, I can’t. We don’t match. Don’t know what the hell I’m thinkin’ I just…” Just thought that if Steve needed something, he should be able to give it. He was sick of feeling so powerless about this. He’d thought on the plane he’d feel better once he was here and he did, marginally, but the feeling that he could do  _nothing_  for Steve hadn’t eased up one bit.   
  
“You can use my blood.” His head snapped up, eyes falling on Jared, who was already rolling up his sleeve. “I’m O.”   
  
“Alright then, Mr. …”  
  
“Padalecki.”   
  
“Mr. Padalecki, I’ll send a nurse to come get you and take you down to have your blood drawn.”   
  
He moved in closer, reached out to put a hand on Jared’s shoulder. “Jay, I-“  
  
“Don’t.” Jared smiled, big and warm but not nearly enough to reach the worry in his eyes. “Don’t thank me. It’s  _Steve_.”   
  
Yeah. Yeah, it was.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
Chris sipped absently at the coffee in his hand, watching Steve’s chest rise and fall as he waited for his phone to connect. On the third ring, she picked up.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
“Hey, momma.”   
  
“Chris! I didn’t expect to hear from you till you got back from Nashville! How’s the recording coming along?”   
  
He took another drink of lukewarm hospital coffee, wishing it had a little more caffeine. “I ah…I’m in L.A. Steve was in a car accident; he’s in the hospital.” The words tasted bitter as he said them, and it made him feel sick enough that he put the cup down and twisted his fingers with Steve’s again.   
  
He heard her gasp, and he knew right about then she’d be going into full on mother mode, fluttering around wantin’ something to do with her hands. “Is he alright? What happened?’   
  
“I don’t know, momma.” His voice wavered a little, almost breaking when he realized that was the answer to both questions. He cleared his throat, looking down to study the tile. “He’s not wakin’ up. He was bleedin’ pretty bad before I got here but they got that stopped and Jared gave blood for him so it seems like that’s all under control but he hit his head in the accident and he’s just…”  _He’s just layin’ here, and I’m gonna lose it any second._ “He won’t wake up.”   
  
“Oh, baby…” He could pretty much hear her heart breaking for him over the line, and he hated himself a little for worrying her like this. “Do you want me to fly out? I can be there today.”   
  
 _Yes. Maybe. No. I don’t know._ “Probably nothin’ to worry about. Just wanted to let you know.”   
  
“You sure? If you need-“  
  
“Think we’ll be fine. Have to see how it goes.” Steve was gonna wake up today. He just was. There was no point in her coming all that way just for that.   
  
“Well…I’m gonna call the church, tell everyone to pray.”   
  
He smiled, rubbed his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. “Thanks.” His momma, she was something else. Everyone at the church he’d grown up in would’ve been willing to burn him at the stake if they knew about him and Steve, he knew, but his mother’d never told them. It was a little bittersweet thinking that they’d pray for Steve as his best friend but not as his life, but as long as they were prayin’, he didn’t really care at the moment.   
  
“Do you wanna talk to your daddy? He’s outside.”   
  
No, he definitely wasn’t up for that. “Nah, you just tell him for me, ok?” They’d had it out when he’d told him about Steve, and since then Chris’ mother had pretty much forced him to accept it because she wanted her boy coming home for visits. Every time they showed up in Oklahoma he looked like he was on the verge of kicking Steve out, and everything in Chris dared him to try it. The last time they were there he’d tried to coax Steve into having really loud sex, but Steve was smarter about that kind of thing than he was. Most of the time. “I gotta go, ok? I just wanted to call and let you know.”   
  
“You’ll call me later and let me know how he’s doin’?”   
  
“Yeah, sure thing.”   
  
“I love you, baby. You tell Steve I love him too.” He coughed, itching to hang up the phone.   
  
“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”   
  
Chris hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket quick. Hearing her voice had made him want her here, because somewhere inside him there was a little boy that still thought she could fix any hurt. He didn’t really want to find out that wasn’t true. With his other hand now free he tugged the blankets up a little higher around Steve, forced himself to smile.   
  
“That was a fun call. I mean, you know how momma is, how she worries… I can tell she’s worried sick about you.” His voice dropped, soft and for Steve’s ears only, and he held his hand tighter. “I’m pretty scared myself, to tell you the truth. You’re scarin’ the hell outta me.” He pulled Steve’s hand up and held it in both his hands, pressed a kiss to his wrist over his pulse. “C’mon, Steve, I need you to wake up, ok? I don’t…I’m really fuckin’ scared, alright, and you know I don’t…I don’t do this kinda thing well, I don’t…you’re the talker, here. I mean, if you can hear me, and I guess people think you can, then maybe there’s something I can say that’ll help but I’m not so good at this so just…just wake up, ok? Just wake up.”   
  
Nothing. He cursed under his breath, squeezed Steve’s fingers gently. “Please? I can’t do this, alright? I can’t…Jesus, I can’t even think right now. Just wake up and talk to me before I lose my mind here. Please, Steve, just talk to me, ok? Please…”   
  
Nothing. Exhausted, he leaned over and crossed his arms on the bed, laying his head on them beside Steve’s arm. He kept talking, going over recording and the songs and the fact that he’d need Steve out there with him to finish up guitar for the last couple of tracks the next time he went. He talked about being ready to come home and about Leverage and about maybe getting a dog, and anything else that came to mind.   
  
By the time Sandy came back and brought Steve’s dad he was almost hoarse, but he kept talking. Sometime around noon, he fell asleep.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
Was it really day 2 already? Chris stood at the window, looking out at the lights of L.A. and nursing another horrible coffee. Yesterday he’d woken up midafternoon to a cramp in his neck and the nurses checking on Steve. There’d been no change, and that pattern had continued on into today. No change, nothing at all but the whir and click of machines and maddening quiet.   
  
He heard Paul Carlson come up behind him, could see his reflection in the window. It wasn’t plain, but it was there in his eyes. He was scared, too.   
  
“You should go home, Chris.”   
  
He shook his head, vehement and shocked that he’d even suggest it. “No, I ain’t goin’ home till I can take Steve home.”   
  
Paul sighed, crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not saying  _go_  home, I’m just saying…stop by. Get out of here for a little while; get yourself a shower and some real food, maybe a little bit of sleep.” Chris’ jaw clenched, his fingers tightening on the styrofoam. He did need a shower, and he sort of was hungry, but…  
  
He looked back at Steve, felt the weight of hurt and longing combined curling heavy around his chest. “I can’t leave him. I can’t leave him here alone, not like this, not when he doesn’t know where I’m goin’, why I’m not here when he wakes up, I can’t-”   
  
“Chris.” The sympathy in Paul’s voice was almost enough to burn him, and it was a moment before he could look him in the eye. “He won’t be alone. I’ll be right here with him, and Sandy’s coming in another hour or so. He won’t be alone for a minute, and if he wakes up, I  _promise_  I’ll tell him right where you are, and I’ll call you. Ok? C’mon, some air’ll do you good.”   
  
At this point, the only thing that would do him good wouldn’t be found anywhere outside these walls. All the same, it’d be a break in feeling like the waiting was about to make his head split open. He nodded, reluctant. “Yeah. Yeah, ok.” Paul clapped a hand against his shoulder and he returned the gesture, brushed past him to go over to Steve. He stroked his cheek gently, leaned over to kiss his forehead just below the bandage. “I’ll be right back.” With  _his_  father there, he’d have expected an explosion, but this was Paul, and Steve had kissed him goodbye and hello and for a dozen other reasons right in front of them, and though it had made Chris nervous at first, he’d finally caught on to why Steve wasn’t bothered by it. They never minded, not in the slightest.   
  
Paul sat down in the chair, taking his place by the bed. Chris waited until he switched on the TV and found some surfing on ESPN2. When he could hear Paul talking softly to Steve about this season’s stars, he slipped out the door.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
In a lot of ways, going home only made him feel worse. In the kitchen he found a note taped to the fridge of “Stuff to get done before Chris gets home”. ‘Go to the store’ was on there, and that one was bad enough to see but it was some of the other ones that tore him up. Sure, there was mundane stuff like ‘change the sheets’ and ‘get a new bottle of Jack’, but there was other stuff that just screamed  _Steve_  like ‘change the strings on the guitars he left’ and ‘print off those pictures you found of the beach trip’.   
  
They’d gone to South Carolina last year to see a different beach than the west coast ones they were used to, and somehow the memory card of all their pictures rolling around together in the sand and playing in the water and generally acting like idiots had gotten lost in the shuffle somewhere. Until now, apparently.   
  
He yanked open the refrigerator door and cracked open a beer, guzzling nearly the whole thing in seconds. This was just too much, just too fucking much.   
  
In the living room Steve’s guitar was propped up against the couch, papers scattered on the coffee table that were covered in coffee rings and food stains and scribbled notes in blue pen that only the two of them would’ve been able to decipher. He’d been writing, in bits and pieces, and Chris couldn’t even bring himself to read them. He shuffled them into a stack and put them in the middle, took Steve’s guitar and laid it lovingly down in its case, fingers running over its strings and lingering. Only a musician would’ve understood, but he could almost  _feel_  Steve in it, and once he was touching it it was hard to let it go.   
  
The bedroom though, of course that was the worst. The Leverage DVD’s were on top of the TV, and though that would’ve been enough to pull at his heart on its own, that wasn’t all. The sheets were rumpled, bed unmade, and he could see where Steve had slept. Clothes were tossed haphazardly on the other side of the bed, and he could see Steve’s pajama pants and  _his_  shirt.   
  
He hadn’t lost it at the hospital, really. Overall, other than a few tears he hadn’t been able to help he’d kept it mostly under control right up until then. Here he was alone, and it wouldn’t matter if he let himself break down a little. He curled up on Steve’s side of the bed, let himself fall apart and tried to keep his chest from cracking open like it felt like it wanted to.   
  
The day he’d left for Nashville they’d spent the afternoon right here, and he could still see the way Steve had looked riding him, still feel the way Steve had leaned down to kiss him, messy and uncoordinated but so fucking good, still hear the way Steve had cried out when Chris had nuzzled into his hair, whispered ‘Come for me’ against his ear. Afterward he’d rolled out of bed to bring a washcloth back to clean them up, and they’d laid together hours afterward, talking and cuddling and watching a little baseball on TV before Chris had to get up and get dressed to head off for his flight.   
  
He turned his head into Steve’s pillow, caught his scent and felt his chest shake just a little harder. He couldn’t do this. God, he just couldn’t do this.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
“Let me get this straight…you’re tellin’ me a man’s hit in broad daylight in L.A., and all you’ve got’s one witness that ‘thinks’ the goddamn car was white?”   
  
The officer sighed, clearly exasperated. “Mr. Kane, I do apologize and I understand how frustrating this must be for you-“  
  
“The hell you do! You-“  
  
The cop held up his hand and kept right on talking. “But the law is a difficult process sometimes, and while this case hasn’t been abandoned until we get more information, we’re at a dead end.”   
  
“Which using a bunch of words to say you’re not gonna do a goddamn thing, right? You know, this is shit, he could’ve  _died_ and you’re not doin’ anything! Somebody out there needs to pay for this, and you-“  
  
“Sir, please, you’re going to have to be reasonable about this.” Chris huffed out on angry breath, still smoldering. The cop didn’t even look  _mildly_  interested much less concerned. Damn self centered bastards. “I promise you, if we get any leads, we’ll follow them as far as they go and try to ensure this person is brought to justice, and we’ll let you know. But until then you’re going to have to be patient, I’m sorry.”   
  
Chris swore a little softer, hit his palm hard enough on the counter to make it sting. This was fuckin’ ridiculous. It wasn’t right to think Steve was layin’ there hurt and someone was out there going on with their life and gettin’ away with what they’d done to him.   
  
“How is your partner doing, Mr. Kane?”   
  
Well, at least he was feigning a little interest. He’d only been in this office every other day for the past few days, the guy _should_  be getting to know him. He shrugged, helpless. “He’s still unconcious. Head’s healing, though.”   
  
“Well, we all wish him a speedy recovery. That was one hell of a crash.”   
  
Yeah,  _that_  helped. Chris gritted his teeth. “Yeah. Thanks.”   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
At a week, he had started to panic. At two weeks, he didn’t want to talk to anyone, but the doctor didn’t seem to be getting that.   
  
“Having been unconscious for two weeks now, I’m afraid we have to consider this a coma.”   
  
He nodded, barely taking his eyes off Steve. “Meaning? People wake up from those.” He’d brought his laptop in, and he’d been doing his homework. Most of the time, people woke up from this kind of thing in under a month. The whole ‘stuck in a coma for years’ thing wasn’t typical, not at all. Steve was gonna be just fine.   
  
“Yes, you’re right, they do, but it could take awhile. He’s not showing any signs of awareness, and I think it’s time we moved him into a more long term room.”   
  
Chris’ hand curled around the edge of the bed, tight against the plastic. “No.”   
  
She put a hand on his back, gentle and pacifying. “Chris, I’m not saying he isn’t going to wake up, alright? I’m his doctor, believe me, I want him to wake up too, but-“  
  
“But you’re  _just_  his doctor. I’m his…” He’d never liked sifting for a word for that. Partner worked, but somehow sometimes it still wasn’t enough. “Look, he’s a patient to you, and I get it, but he’s everything to me, alright?” He couldn’t look at her when he said it, and it was hard enough to force out anyway. Talking about things was overrated; there were some things that were meant to be private. “He’s everything, and I’m not givin’ up on him. He’s gonna wake up. I know he is. Just give him a few more days, alright?” He did look at her then, pleading. “Just a few more days.”   
  
She nodded, and he tried to ignore the sympathy in her eyes. “Chris, you look exhausted. Why don’t you-“  
  
“Went home yesterday for an hour or two. I’m fine here, thanks.” He let out a deep breath, his shoulders hunching as he leaned harder against the bed. “Look, can you just give me some time alone with him right now?”   
  
He saw her nod, and she patted his back one more time. “Of course. I’ll be on call if you need me.”   
  
Once she was gone he shifted down the rail on the bed, sat on the edge and leaned over to kiss Steve’s lips, soft and hopeful. He tried every now and then, but it hadn’t been enough to wake him yet. Chris reached up and brushed a strand of blonde hair back, thumb brushing against his cheek as he tucked it behind his ear. The bandage on his head seemed to get smaller every time they changed it lately, and he was glad to see at least something seemed to be healing right. That had to be a good sign.   
  
“Hey.” It came out rough at first but he cleared his throat, smoothed his voice out. “Didn’t even really get to tell you good morning before she came in here. I went home and took a shower, worked on a couple things. You know, forgetting to water the plants isn’t something you can fix last minute, dude. I’m pretty sure the ones in the music room are done for.”   
  
By now, he was almost used to the silence. He pulled Steve’s hand to rest against his thigh, and his fingers rubbed absently at the tan line that marked the place where the turquoise bracelet he’d given Steve for one of their anniversaries should have been. They’d taken it off after the accident, and it was in a bag in a drawer somewhere in the room.   
  
“Tim offered to come by again this afternoon, but I told him we were ok. Think he wanted to bring me dinner, he’s convinced I’m not eating. I am you know, just kinda skippin’ a meal here and there. Anyway, it’s not important.”   
  
It was Steve’s left hand that was free, and he rubbed at the tips of his fingers, felt the familiar guitar calluses that were starting to fade just a little. “I’ve thought about playin’ for you, you know, cause I know you’re probably sick of not hearing any music but I’m not sure if they’d let me. I can ask though, maybe bring the guitar back after I go home on Sunday, how’s that?”   
  
He took a shaky breath, squeezed his eyes shut. It was too fucking bright in here. “You gotta talk to me, Steve. I just…you know it’s hard me askin’ you for anything, and you’re great about that because I never have to. But I need you to do this for me, ok? Look I don’t know how hard it is, waking up from something like that and I’m pretty sure it’s easier to just keep sleepin’, but Steve, I need you to wake up.” On the off chance that he could hear him, he’d kept it together in front of him pretty well, but the longer this went the scarier it was, and he was pretty done with pretending he was fine. “You’ve gotta come back to me, because I can’t do this by myself. I can’t do  _anything_  by myself anymore, and I hate it a little because I never wanted to need anything like this, but I don’t regret it either, I promise I don’t. But I love you, and I can’t lose you, and she’s telling me you might not wake up and Steve, I don’t know what to do…” He was crying then, and he laid down on the edge of the bed that he could take, wrapped an arm careful across Steve’s waist and burrowed his head into his shoulder. “You’ve gotta answer me darlin’ ok? For  _me_ , just try a little harder,  _please_  try, Steve, please…”   
  
He cried against his shoulder until exhaustion overtook everything else, and his breath evened out as he fell asleep. From where their hands were linked he thought he felt Steve’s thumb brush against his wrist as he was drifting off, but when it didn’t happen again he knew he must have imagined it.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
His cell phone started ringing while he was in the shower, and he leaned out to grab it off the counter, toweling his hand off first and bringing it as close to his still dripping wet head as he dared. The caller ID had told him it was Jensen. “Yeah?”   
  
“Chris, he’s awake.”   
  
He bolted out of the shower with soap still on him, half toweled off and hung up somewhere inbetween there and yanking some clothes on off the floor. He was pretty sure they were Steve’s and not his, but at this point, it didn’t really matter. Anything that made him presentable enough to walk in the door was good.   
  
He floored it all the way to the hospital, and he was just lucky some cop didn’t start tailing him. Too impatient to wait on the elevator he ran up the stairs, practically skidding across into Steve’s room when he came to the right section of hallway.   
  
“Steve?” It was breathless and hopefully and so damn happy, but it all drained out of him the moment he noticed Steve wasn’t looking over at him. His eyes were closed again, and he looked for all the world like he’d never woken up at all. “ _No_!” He darted over to the bed, ignoring the fact that Jensen and Dr. Knor had both started talking at him at the same time. Steve had woken up, and he hadn’t been here to see it, to see  _him_  and tell him that he was right there and he was waiting on him and everything was alright. “No, no, this can’t-“  
  
Jensen tugged on his shoulder, hard, turning him halfway around to face him. “Will you listen? You haven’t heard a word I said, so just listen a sec, ok?” When Chris didn’t immediately ignore him, Jensen’s eyes flicked over to the doctor, giving her the chance to speak.   
  
She was smiling, and that fed his hope just a little more, even if he still felt sick at the thought that he hadn’t even  _been_ here…  
  
“This is normal for people waking up after long periods of unconsciousness. They may wake up for minutes at a time first and keep dropping back off, and that could go on for a few days, but this is a  _good_  sign.” She scribbled something down on his chart, hung it back at the foot of the bed with an even wider smile. “This means he  _is_  waking up, very soon.”   
  
Just like that, he could breathe at least a tiny bit easier. He sighed, swiped damp hair back away from his face. “Thank you.”   
  
“Oh, you had more to do with this than I did. You’ve been taking very good care of him, Chris.” She headed toward the door, motioning at the clock. “A nurse will be by at 9 to check on him again, just call if he wakes up again before that.”   
  
He was already looking back at the bed, scanning over a sight that didn’t seem to have changed. “Can’t believe I missed it.”   
  
Jensen’s hand was still on his shoulder and he squeezed lightly, comforting. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s ok. He’ll be wakin’ up a few days, he’ll have plenty of time to get sick of your face all over again.”   
  
Chris laughed a little at that, but it was mostly hollow. He should’ve been there. He dropped his hand to rub against the inside of Steve’s arm, his touch gentle. “Did he ask about me?”   
  
Jensen’s reluctance to answer told him everything, but he finally came out with it, falteringly. “Yeah. He did.”   
  
And he’d been at home, taking a goddamn shower. He shook his head, clenched his left hand until it hurt.   
  
“It’s ok, Chris. I told him you were on the way. He knew you were coming.”   
  
‘Coming’ and ‘here’ weren’t the same thing. He sat down in the chair by the bed, shoulder’s sagging as he watched over Steve. Come hell or high water, he wasn’t leaving this room. Not anymore.   
  
Jensen nudged his shoulder. “Can I get you some coffee?”   
  
“Can you go somewhere better than the cafeteria downstairs?”   
  
Jen laughed at that, and he knocked him on the back of the head. “Picky son of a bitch. Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
It was the middle of the night, 2:30, and his eyes were starting to almost close so he wasn’t sure he saw it, at first. Steve’s eyes fluttered all the way open though, and Chris sat up so fast it looked like he’d had a rocket shot up his spine. “Steve.”   
  
He blinked again, winced against the light before he turned his head, eyes still half closed. “Chris?”   
  
He had to have been grinning like a loon, and he scooted in as close as he could, hand curling warm around Steve’s cheek. “Yeah, I’m here.”   
  
“What happened? Jensen said you were coming, then…” Confusion flickered in his eyes, like he was trying his hardest to remember.   
  
“Then you fell asleep on us again.” Steve’s hand moved, looking for his, and Chris took it gladly, relieved to feel even a little bit of force in his fingers. “How’re you feelin’, darlin’? Your head hurt?”   
  
“Lots of things hurt.” He swallowed, grimacing. “My throat doesn’t feel right.”   
  
“Probably need some water. Let me call the nurse, ok?” He looked down to push the button, looked up to see Steve’s eyes drifting closed again. “Hey, hey, don’t do that, ok? You gotta stay awake.” No such luck. He rubbed his cheek, trying to get his attention. “Hey, Steve, look at me, ok? Stay with me.”   
  
The grip on his hand slacked off, and he had to admit defeat. He’d gotten what, 30 seconds? Better than nothing, _absolutely_ , but only enough to make him want the real thing. He sat back in his chair, took another gulp of coke and hoped he could manage to stay awake the rest of the night.   
  
‘’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’’   
  
The next time Chris woke up, it was to the feel of fingers running through his hair.  _Probably Sandy._  She brought him breakfast most mornings, but he didn’t really feel up to eating too much at the moment. He’d only nodded off around 6 or so, had to have been, and as much as he hadn’t meant to sleep at all now that he  _was_  asleep he kinda wanted to stay that way. At least a little longer.   
  
“And here you told me  _I_  needed to stay awake.” His voice was rough with disuse but  _so_  familiar all the same, and Chris woke up just like that, blinking furiously.   
  
“Steve?”   
  
Steve stroked through his hair again, smiling down at him, blue eyes bright and open. “Hey, baby. Sorry to wake you.”   
  
“You son of a bitch…”   
  
Steve laughed, and even weak he sounded so  _alive_  Chris could barely catch the sob rising in his throat. Steve curled his fingers into his hair and tugged gentle, wanting him closer. “C’mere.”   
  
He complied, getting up out of the chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, and he took Steve into his arms as much as he could, careful not to put any real pressure on his chest. He buried his face in his neck and breathed him in, focused on the way Steve’s fingers fisted in his shirt and the way Steve’s lips pressed to his temple, alive and warm.   
  
“Christian, it’s alright. It’s alright…” He hardly realized why Steve was shushing him until he realized he was crying, and even then it was hard to think past the fact that Steve was  _here_  really, honestly right  _here_  in his hands.   
  
Steve shifted as much as he could, turned his head and sought Chris’ lips, and the first kiss was slow and sweet and perfect. The second was a little deeper, and Chris moaned when Steve’s tongue slid easily into his mouth. He pulled back then, wiped hurriedly at the corners of his eyes and met Steve’s gaze.   
  
“You are  _never_  doin’ that to me again, you understand? You have any idea what it’s been like, sittin’ here with you, not knowing if you’d ever-“   
  
Steve kissed him again, quick and quieting. “I’m sorry. I could hear you you know. The whole time. But it was weird, cause I just couldn’t wake up, I couldn’t even try. But then the other day, I heard you and…” He shook his head, and that said everything. He’d seen Chris fall apart once or twice before, and both times he’d been the only one to know, the only person in the world Chris trusted to see him when he was broken. “And I couldn’t reach you and I wanted to, to tell you everything was ok, and then I got mad that I couldn’t and then…I dunno, I guess that helped me wake up.” He tightened his grip on Chris’ shirt, tilted his head to nuzzle against him. “But see? Everything’s ok. I’m right here.”   
  
“You better stay here.”   
  
“I will. Don’t worry.” He tilted his head up for another kiss, hummed softly when Chris sucked on his lower lip. “Hey…’m thirsty.”   
  
“Yeah, you said that last night too right before you conked out on me.”   
  
Steve laughed, and Chris could feel his heart starting to beat again. “I think I’ve got a hold on it this time. But yeah, water’d be great…and some waffles.”   
  
“You’re gonna eat hospital waffles? That’s brave.”   
  
“Actually I was thinking of  _your_  waffles.”   
  
“And where am I supposed to make those, the cafeteria?” He slid off the bed, stretching a little to work out the kinks his back before he reached for the call button. “I’ll make ‘em for you when we get home, how’s that?”   
  
Steve caught his wrist right before he got to the button, holding him off for just a minute. “Hey...I’m ok.”   
  
Chris turned his hand to link their hands together, squeezed as tight as he could. Yeah, he was ok, and that meant that once that soaked in a little, he was gonna be ok too. 


End file.
